


the thought of him

by orphan_account



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Resolved Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Trans Arthur Morgan, i wish i could tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Camped out together on a hunting trip, Arthur thinks about Charles and struggles to keep his mouth shut.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	the thought of him

“Hey, Arthur.”

Arthur turned from where he’d been chopping wood, helping out in camp as much as he can before he went out again. Charles stood before him, the sun shining from behind him and making him almost radiant. Not for the first time, Arthur thought that Charles looked insanely, inconceivably good.

“Charles, what is it?” He asked, wiping his hand of the pieces of wood from both the axe and the firewood he’d been chopping. Charles’ gaze flicked to his hands momentarily before it moved back to him, looking at him neutrally.

“I was just about to go hunting. Saw a lot of boars out there, and I was thinking of bringing back something other than rabbit or deer,” Charles explained, hands checking an arrow for it’s quality before putting it away. “Wanna come with?”

“Pearson’s not gonna add any extra seasoning, if that’s what you’re getting at. Man’ll do anything to keep the stew as bland as can be,” Arthur told him amusedly, privately enjoying the smile Charles gave him in response. “But sure, I’ll come with. We headin’ out now?”

“Yeah. Wanna get as many as we can carry while they’re winding down,” Charles said, looking out towards the sun as it slowly made it’s way west. He turned then, making his way towards Taima and mounting up as Arthur put all the wood into a pile and the axe back on the chopping log.

Arthur took out his own bow from under his cot, sensing Charles would prefer to make as little noise as possible. He also took his repeater with him, in case they ran into some trouble that can’t be taken down by a bow. He made his way over to Sooty, a standardbred he tamed in the wild. He’d been unable to keep a horse for too long ever since Boadicea, until he saw Sooty’s dark coat in the forests of Big Valley.

“We’re goin’ out huntin’! Might take a day or so,” Arthur called out as they left, not paying attention to who actually heard him.

He followed Charles as they trotted out of camp, silent as they made their way to the spot where the boars had last been seen. This was what he enjoyed most about riding out with Charles; the comfortable silence of the journey, without the awkward air of having to fill the silence plaguing them. Despite Charles’ short stay with their gang, he integrated easily, becoming as reliable and as integral to the gang as the other older members. Some days, Arthur found himself surprised at the fact that Charles had only been with them six months rather than six years, with how easily he trusted him.

It didn’t help that Charles was as attractive as they come.

“Here, by the hill; we’ll get a good vantage point on where I saw them,” Charles called out to him, before directing Taima towards the incline of the hill. Arthur followed him, slowing Sooty into a walk as they dismounted and retrieved their bows.

There wasn’t a lot of conversation after that. Other than the quiet cheers after a clean kill ( _“Nice shot, Arthur,” Charles had said in that low rasp of his, sending shivers down Arthur’s spine_ ), the grunts of movement, and the squelching noises of skin and pelt stripped from meat, they didn’t make a lot of noise. By the time the sun fully went down, they had about five pelts each and an almost overflowing bag of pork, enough to keep the camp fed for at least a week. It was busy and bloody work, but that was the kind of work perfect for men like them.

Arthur liked hunting with Charles. Maybe it was the thrill of having a capable partner at his side, who was headstrong and certain in all of his actions. Charles was nothing if not reliable, easily one of Arthur’s most trusted friends in the gang. It was in the way he could most definitely go at survival alone and live, certainly strong enough and smart enough for it, but he doesn’t, because he wants to stay with them.

They had been skinning the last two boars they took down when they finally stopped for the night, too far from camp to make the journey back. They were off the road by some distance, much closer to the lake than any path. The crisp, clean air of the Heartlands was welcome to his lungs, a far better land to be in than the freezing glaciers of Colter.

“We should camp over here. I’ll go wrap the meat if you wanna get the tents set up,” Charles instructed to him, already setting out to work the moment he dismounted from Taima. Arthur nodded, wordlessly going along with it as he fixed to get their tents up.

They worked as they hunted; in silence, only disturbed when they moved around each other and quietly announced it. It was.. strange, how naturally they moved around each other, like they had been doing it for ages. Arthur wondered, not for the first time, if he was alone in that feeling or if Charles felt similarly.

He eyed the broad shape of his back, that blue dotted shirt loose around his frame. Charles was a big man, but the shirt seemed to be even bigger, hardly hugging his body, looser than Arthur had first thought. Arthur wondered what it would be like to touch the strength hidden under that cotton, but before he could let his mind wander further, Charles turned around.

“I should be done here. I’ll go wash up a little, and if you wanna get some rest, that’s fine by me,” Charles told him, seemingly avoiding wiping his bloodied hands on his shirt.

“Sounds good,” Arthur replied, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t been staring. From Charles’ neutral expression, he figured it worked. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’ then.”

“Mm, alright.” The huntsman turned, making his way to the shore, before turning again to look at him. “And Arthur?”

Arthur looked at him at the call of his name, tent flap in hand as he looked at him expectantly. Charles smiled, the kind that he only smiled when he was content, Arthur noticed.

“Good work on today,” He said, looking every bit as lovely as Arthur could ever imagine him to be. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Charles,” Arthur responded softly, voice quiet despite the distance between them. The campfire that he started out of habit burned and crackled behind him as he crawled into his tent, clipping the tent flap as he sunk into his bedroll.

Arthur sighed, body tired but mind racing as he brought his hand up to his face. The last few weeks had been rough, no doubt about it, but it seemed like they were getting rougher. Staying in Horseshoe Overlook where it seemed like nobody in the area knew them had been a welcome respite from having to run from lawmen and Pinkertons with their tails between their legs, and for a time it seemed like the Pinkertons had lost their trail, until that encounter he had when he’d been out fishing with Jack. Had it not been for him, Arthur was certain he would’ve snapped and shot them dead without a second thought, slightly outnumbered as he might be.

He set his mind to greener pastures, thinking about the good things that had happened, like the better part of fishing with Jack. The kid didn’t like it very much, but Arthur enjoyed every moment he had with him, as painful as it can sometimes be when he’s reminded of what he’s lost. Loathing for John squandering his chance came soon afterwards, so he put his mind to other things.

He thought of Charles, then. His mind was pretty simple when it came down to it, and ever since Charles had caught his attention when they went out hunting for the first time back in Colter, he’d been unable to put him out of his mind for long.

He thought of Charles’ kindness and gentleness, unexpected from a man of his size and presence, but not unwelcome. He treated Arthur with a kind of respect that he’d never received from anyone else; where he was respected as a brother, a provider, a master gunslinger, Charles respected him as a man. There had been a time when he was respected as none of those things, and they had long stopped mattering to Arthur, but when it came from Charles, it was special.

He thought of Charles, in general. Thought of that smile of his, a pleasant surprise every time he saw it, one that Arthur wished he could immortalise in his journal. He thought of the way his hair would fall in the right way, stringy over his shoulders one day and tied back messily on another. He thought of the way he touched certain things with a gentle reverence, like it was important and it was worth his full attention. Wondered if he would ever touch Arthur in that way.

Before he knew it, his hand began slinking downwards, rubbing against the fabric of his shirt just above his belt. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine it was Charles’ hand, that it was his tender but sure touch running across his belly. That it was  _his_ hand exploring tentatively, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, sliding down into the excited heat of his arousal.

He breathed in sharply at the first touch of his fingers against his cock, already moving towards full hardness over just the thought of Charles. A spark of shame shot through him at how carried away he was getting, but the thought disappears just as soon as he pressed down, rubbing his cock between his fingers. It was both too little and too much, thinking about Charles’ hand in his jeans, pleasuring him and fingering him like a cheap whore.

Covering his mouth to silence his moan, he slid his finger in his hole, wet enough that there was hardly any resistance. In the back of his mind, he chided himself for being so easily riled up just from thinking about Charles, sleeping in the tent next to his, though the thought is easily overridden by his arousal.

Maybe, as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against his cock and slid his finger in and out of himself, if he tried hard enough, he could imagine Charles’ voice, just speaking to him not an hour ago. What would he say in that baritone voice of his?

“God—“ Arthur groaned quietly, feeling the tight curl at the pit of his stomach as he sped up the movements of his hand. He tried to keep quiet, both out of habit and fear that Charles would find out and..

And do what, exactly? Would he make his way over, investigate the source of the small noises Arthur had been making all night? Would he wake up and listen from his own tent? Would he ignore it, pretend it wasn’t happening a few feet away from him?

Would he join him?

That particular thought is the one to get to him, right as he rubbed his cock just right, slid his finger in the right angle, let a finger slip into his mouth as he quieted his own groan of pleasure. Without much more attention, he came with a soft noise, biting around his finger almost painfully as his back arched upwards.

It had been a long time since he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him from his own hand, maybe days after he’d made the discovery of himself that changed his life as a teenager with nothing good left in his life. He panted quietly, trying to catch his breath as silently as he can to avoid Charles’ suspicion, though the lack of movement or activity next to him was answer enough.

He wiped himself as carefully as he could, still sensitive from his midnight ministrations as he buttoned his jeans back and strapped his suspenders over his shoulders. Knowing he’d be unable to get any sleep tonight, considering his untamed desires for one of his closest friends, he sat up, cracking his back as he opened the flap of his tent and welcoming the cool night air as he stepped out.

“Enjoyed yourself?”

Arthur turned so fast it felt like he snapped his own neck. He instantly went to his holster, only to realise his gun belt hadn’t been strapped onto him (stupid,  _stupid_ Morgan) in the first place. He settled a little when he realised it was just Charles, then felt that panic lodge itself in his throat when he realised that it was  _Charles_.

“Charles? W-what’re you doin’ up?” He asked nervously, hands immediately going to the hem of his jeans. Charles looked up from the fire towards him, his chocolate brown eyes almost consumed by the blacks of his irises, leaving a thin ring of brown as the flame of the campfire danced across his face. Arthur, in that moment, felt like a man caught with his pants down.

“I could ask the same question, Arthur.” The way he said it caught him off guard, the quality of his voice even deeper than Arthur had ever heard before from him. Charles adjusted slightly from his seat in front of the campfire, tilting his head slightly so his hair fell to the side of his face as he looked up at Arthur.

“Oh, just, um, was thinkin’ of standin’ on guard, let you get some rest,” Arthur said, only slightly stumbling on his words. Charles raised his eyebrows, gesturing at his missing gun belt.

“Without a weapon?”

“I was gonna get one,” Arthur defended, crossing his arms and looking away. “Didn’t expect to see you out here, is all.”

Charles stared at him for a long moment, making Arthur shy away from all the attention, before he got up. Arthur, the lecherous bastard he was, glanced down for a second at Charles’ hips, only to be greeted with the sight of a significant outline that had his mouth drying up.

“I oughta head to bed then, seeing as you’ll be on guard,” Charles told him, though the teasing in his tone wasn’t missable by a long shot. Arthur kicked slightly at the dust as he looked down at the ground. He could hear the rustling of a tent flap, before Charles stopped in his tracks. “Unless you’d care to join me?”

“I-“ Arthur stuttered, caught completely off guard as he blinked owlishly at Charles. The huntsman was ever patient as he gestured at his tent, which already seemed too small for a man of his size. It’d be a tight fit. “You want me-?”

“You see anyone else around here?” Charles asked, looking around for show before looking back at Arthur, an earnest but kind look on his face even as his eyes danced with amusement and developing arousal. “Yes, you. I want you.”

The cowboy swallowed dryly, throat working as he processed the words. The moment they landed and slipped into shape, he nodded, following right after Charles.

Tomorrow, they’ll talk about it, because Charles will probably want to talk about it, and Arthur doesn’t think he’d be able to turn away from Charles. They’ll talk about it and either laugh it off and dismiss it as a one time thing, or they’ll keep going until there’s nothing left of them. Tomorrow, Arthur will tell him all about how he feels for Charles, and hope to any power out there listening that Charles would feel even remotely the same.

Tonight, though, Arthur will let Charles let him down on his cot that smells of him, and he’ll have him. Tonight, they’ll have each other, under the thick covering of canvas and, above that, the bright splattering of stars.

**Author's Note:**

> seems like every fic i write gets longer and longer than the last one. that’s just charthur’s power, i guess
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://pouringforthoil.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsamemikael/)


End file.
